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<title>i'll give you the world by thunderstorms (fictionalparadises)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296920">i'll give you the world</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalparadises/pseuds/thunderstorms'>thunderstorms (fictionalparadises)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(but not for long), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Boys In Love, Dream Smp, Dream is in Prison, M/M, Sexual Tension, Villains, villain george bc that's sexy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:53:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296920</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalparadises/pseuds/thunderstorms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George slams his boot into the door, kicking it open with a loud bang that echoes through the empty hall as it crashes into the obsidian.</p><p>Dream looks up to meet George’s gaze, holds it for a long moment, before a wicked grin splits his face. “Took you long enough.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'll give you the world</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>rational brain: dream deserves to be in prison bc of what he did</p><p>monkey brain: villain!george coming to rescue villain!dream bc they're a power couple &amp; it's sexy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s eerily quiet in the hallways of the prison.</p><p>The warden stands behind his desk, thumbing through the stack of books in front of him. For the past days, Sam has been trying to make sense of the writings, but it’s hopeless, and the books just keep on coming—Dream hasn’t stopped filling pages upon pages, ink bleeding and staining the paper, corners creased and pages folded. He’s been writing so much that Sam had to go in and give him extra books—twice in one day.</p><p>And yet. What he writes makes no sense.</p><p>Sam scratches his head and sighs, slamming the book shut.</p><p>It’s quiet.</p><p>It is, in fact, too quiet.</p><p>The hair on his arms stands up when he realizes that. Sam’s brows knit together and he pushes the book away from him before walking around his desk. Something’s wrong, but he just can’t put his finger on what.</p><p>The realization hits him too late—as he stalks closer to the portal, he notices that the nether has stopped whispering. Instead, it makes no sounds at all.</p><p>He’s about to take a step closer when a figure materializes from the purple matter.</p><p>“George?” He asks warily, carefully eyeing the sword in his hands before taking a step back.</p><p>George rolls his shoulders, looking at Sam with cool indifference.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” he continues. His gaze flicks from the axe slung across George’s back to the dagger strapped around his thigh. When George hops off the edge of the portal and lands on the ground with both feet, his jump echoing through the quiet room, Sam’s hand slowly slides to the sword sheathed at his hip.</p><p>George tuts. “Now I don’t think you want to do that, Sam.”</p><p>“I don’t remember you scheduling a visit,” he says, walking backwards. “Are you here for Dream?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t exactly call it a visit, per se,” George shrugs. He’s still wearing goggles, but something in his voice tells Sam that if he were to take them off, he’d see something resembling anger in his eyes.</p><p>Sam’s back hits the desk. “No? Then what would you call it?”</p><p>George shakes out his arms. Sam watches as he tightens his fist around the hilt of his sword, his leather gloves creaking. “Hm. I don’t think that’s any of your business.”</p><p>“I’m the warden,” Sam says, trying to calculate how much time he’ll have to press the alarm button underneath his desk. If he manages to do that, he’ll be safe—the guards deeper inside the prison will be warned for a complete lockdown and George won’t have a way into the prison. Or out, for that matter. “I think it <em>is</em> my business.”</p><p>George inclines his head. “You’re the warden? Sadly, that makes you the exact person I need.” He looks at Sam over the rim of his goggles, and Sam finds out very quickly that he was wrong—there’s no anger in his eyes. What he finds is much worse: an edge of insanity, and something like pure wrath that makes his blood freeze in his veins. A shudder runs down his spine. “I’m sorry, Sam,” George says.</p><p>Sam spins on his heel and reaches over his desk.</p><p>He’s not fast enough.</p><p>⚜</p><p>This prison is hideous, George thinks to himself. His sword drags over the floor, screeching as it skids over the obsidian. With a sigh, he spins it up until it rests over his shoulder.</p><p>He’s tired from the little hours of sleep he got last night, but he’d been planning this until deep in the night. It’d taken him days to find out how to muddle the nether portal, and he only managed to figure it out this morning. He’d stayed awake for so long that he watched the sunrise, then crashed in his bed with the faint realization that this would be his last night alone.</p><p>George walks past rows of cells, some empty, some not, footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. According to his floorplans, a guard post should be up ahead, and then there’s another one right at Dream’s cell.</p><p>He clears the first post without any complications.</p><p>There’s so much walking—why is there so much walking? George rolls his eyes, slamming another button, barely waiting for the doors to open before he’s pushing through.</p><p>But the closer he gets, the more giddy he feels. Unconsciously, a bounce finds his way into his step, and by the time he reaches the last antechamber, he’s smiling.</p><p>It takes no more than two minutes for him to find a way around the mechanics of the prison, and the redstone fizzles to life with a quiet hiss. Lava sizzles as it’s drained and blocks echo as they get spurred into motion.  </p><p>George stretches his arms behind his head once he’s standing on the platform and twirls his sword through the air, hearing the metal zing as it slices through nothing.</p><p>He feels almost… nervous, even.</p><p>A cunning smirk creeps onto his face when he walks up to the guards. “Hello,” he greets them, watching their eyes grow wide and barely giving them a second to anticipate before he’s upon them, moving with practiced ease. He’d feel guilty for cutting them down like stalks of weed if it weren’t for the fact that they’re the only things standing between him and the thing he loves most in this world.</p><p>They’re down too fast for the fight to be fun, but George doesn’t feel disappointed. He’s here now, anyway. His final destination.</p><p>George slams his boot into the door, kicking it open with a loud bang that echoes through the empty hall as it crashes into the obsidian. The obsidian hisses in response. It just makes George smile wider.</p><p>And there he is.</p><p>Dream sits against the wall, one leg stretched out, the other propped up, arm slung over his knee. He’s wearing a worn-down orange overall, stained with dirt and dried blood. His hair is matted against his face, the <em>dirty blonde</em> taken a little bit too literal for George’s liking. He looks up to meet George’s gaze, holds it for a long moment, and then a wicked grin splits his face. “Took you long enough.”</p><p>George rolls his eyes, then scrunches up his nose in disgust. “You look hideous.”</p><p>“Not my best outfit, I’ll admit,” he shrugs, then grins again once George lets out a sigh and pulls out a clean pair of pants and a shirt that he throws his way.</p><p>“Always prepared for everything, are you?”</p><p>“You could say that,” George says, smiling a little. His smile drops when Dream gets to his feet and pulls off the overall immediately, breath hitching in his throat at the sight. Jagged white lines are evident on his pale skin, illuminated softly by the orange glow from the lava. Around his wrists sit red marks, undoubtedly where he’d been shackled weeks ago. Just the thought of Dream being cuffed alone makes George’s blood boil under his skin, but he doesn’t look away, instead drinks in every inch of skin he can get his eyes on because it’s been <em>so long</em> and he’s missed this sight <em>so much.</em></p><p>“You’re drooling,” Dream remarks as he pulls the shirt over his head.</p><p>“You’re slow,” George retorts, rolling his eyes and turning on his heels. “We could’ve been out of here already if you’d just hurried up.”</p><p>He’s pulled back roughly and barely gets time to react before Dream grabs him by the shoulder and kisses him. They knock together harshly, teeth nearly rattling, and George chuckles as he pulls back a fraction of an inch.</p><p>Dream won't have any of it, though, because his hand slips behind George’s neck and pulls him in again, though it’s a little more gentle this time. “Hello,” he breathes.</p><p>George smiles against his mouth. “Hello.”</p><p>They stand there for a moment, so close to each other that George can feel Dream’s breath fanning his face. Dream inches forward and brushes their noses together, closing his eyes and letting his forehead rest against George’s.</p><p>It’s nice. It’s been so long.</p><p>“I missed you,” Dream breathes.</p><p>George smiles again, lifting his hand to curl his fingers in the soft strands of hair at the nape of Dream’s neck. “It’s been, what? Two months? Three?” he teases, and even if it’s a joke, Dream’s hand finds its way to George’s hip before he squeezes possessively. “Just kidding,” George says, lifting on his toes to press another kiss to Dream’s lips. “I missed you too.”</p><p>“Good,” Dream slowly grins. “Then let’s get out of here, yeah?”</p><p>George grabs Dream’s hand and intertwines their fingers, tugging him along. The platform stutters into motion.</p><p>Before he can stop himself, George takes the balled up overall from Dream’s other hand and drops it. The fabric flutters down slowly, and even before it hits the lava, it catches fire, smoke drifting upwards.</p><p>They watch in silence as it burns. Dream squeezes George’s hand.</p><p>The echo of their footsteps bounce off the walls and they stroll through the corridors like they have all the time in the world—which they do, he supposes.</p><p>“So what’s the plan after we get out of here?” George asks, throwing a glance at Dream.</p><p>He shrugs. “I… don’t know, actually,” he says, though there’s something in his voice that leads George to believe otherwise. “Sleep for twenty hours straight, probably.”</p><p>George smiles to himself at that. He’s glad that he’ll at least have Dream to himself for a few moments before he’ll go back to unleashing his wrath on the world.</p><p>When they round the last corner, they’re met with the sight of a dozen guards, all in defensive stands, swords raised as they block off the nether portal. George sighs.</p><p>“The odds are looking… not very nice, I’d say,” Dream observes, though when he meets George’s gaze, his eyes are glistening with hunger. Hunger for a fight, for blood, for retaliation. These are the people that have been treating him like the dirt they walk upon for weeks. At least Sam is—<em>was</em>—a friend, and George knows that despite the warden’s iron exterior, he wouldn’t have been able to treat Dream like any less. But the guards… they had no personal connection with him at all.</p><p>And George understands that hunger, that fire. Understands because it’s very much alive in his own veins.</p><p>He sighs again, then reaches behind his back to undo one of the leather clasps. “I brought your axe,” George says.</p><p>“You actually did,” Dream chuckles, sounding only half-surprised, fingers brushing together as he takes his netherite axe from George. “Were you hoping for this or were you just prepared?”</p><p>George is quiet for a moment, then grins. “I think you know the answer.”</p><p>“I’m flattered,” Dream says, rotating his wrist. The axe cuts through the air with a soft whoosh, and George would be lying if he said he hasn’t missed the sound.</p><p>George rolls his shoulders and shakes out his arm before unsheathing his sword, breaking through the eerie quiet. The guards watch them from a distance, tense, awaiting. ”Oh—” he makes a noise, and Dream turns to him, eyebrows raised. George pulls something from his pocket and carefully hands it over. “I think you’ll need this.”</p><p>“You—” Dream cuts himself off, grinning as he brushes over his white mask. “I do, actually.” Once he’s slid it into place over his face, wild strands of blonde hair peeking out from underneath the tied ribbon, George’s heart stutters, and he can’t stop the hint of a smile creeping onto his face.</p><p>He takes a moment to look at Dream, so familiar yet so changed, and realizes that he can’t wait to go home. “Well, let’s get this over with, yeah?”</p><p>Dream clears his throat. “Right.” He places his axe upside down on the ground and leans on it like a cane, looking way too casual for someone who’s about to paint the walls red. “Oh, wait. George?”</p><p>He raises a brow in question.</p><p>“You wanted to know the plan, right?” Dream asks, pushing his mask up into his hair. “Well, it’s nothing complicated, really.”</p><p>George rolls his eyes, though one corner of his mouth tugs up. “What is it, Dream?”</p><p>“Once we get out of here,” he says, swinging up his axe until it’s resting over his shoulder, “I’m gonna take it down. Everything. Everyone. Every last bit of it.”</p><p>“What happened to ‘nothing complicated’?” George asks, placing one hand on his hip.</p><p>Dream shrugs, grinning. “Oh, come on now. What’s not easy about it? Who’s there to stop us?”</p><p><em>Us.</em> George doesn’t miss the implication. “Is this an invitation?”</p><p>With two strides, Dream reaches him, towering over him so high that George has to crane his neck to look up to his face. “I’ll give you the world, George,” he says, voice low, but there’s sincerity behind the madness of his words.</p><p>He loves the way Dream says his name. <em>George</em>. He loves the way his tongue curls around the syllables, loves how he makes it sound like a caress, a confession. Loves the way he seems to put more meaning in the word than anyone else in this forsaken kingdom.</p><p>“Then who am I to deny?” George whispers, raising on his toes to brush his lips against Dream’s, just barely. He pulls back, leaving him just unsated, and Dream chuckles humorlessly.</p><p>“I'll get back to you for that, you know,” he says, and electricity zips up George’s spine at his tone. Dream turns back to the guards, who are still looking at them like they’re insane, which, to be fair, might be completely possible. “Alright. Let’s get this done so we can go home.”</p><p>Home. George smiles. He doesn’t say it, but he knows inside—his home is already right beside him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading !!</p><p>please leave a comment or come talk to me on twitter @tangerinegnf (or tumblr @sundaycore)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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